


The Most Wonderful Pies of the Year

by soufflegirl91



Series: Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2020 [1]
Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Baking, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gratuitous mince pies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27822766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/pseuds/soufflegirl91
Summary: James drops by Q Branch with some sweet treats. Q really should get around to telling Doris at number 37 to stop baking for him.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036050
Comments: 42
Kudos: 95
Collections: MI6 Cafe Collections, Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	The Most Wonderful Pies of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> Week 1 of the 2020 Anon Prompt Gift Exchange is here already! Where has 2020 even gone?! (Down the toilet, it seems). So, while we all procrastinate on our RBBs (shush, let me pretend you're procrastinating too), here's the first of a few silly festive ficlets.
> 
> Week 1 prompt: Q discovers that 007 is actually quite the talented baker.
> 
> As ever, I am eternally grateful to Christinefromsherwood for being the best beta and all-around awesome human being.

The mince pie appeared on Q’s desk while he was in a meeting with M. 

The meeting had run on through his lunch break, and he had just been wondering if there was any chance the canteen would still have anything edible left at this hour or if he'd have to rush to Tesco and buy a sad sandwich. He should probably think about buying something for the Q Branch Christmas party while he was at it. Even if everyone would make fun of him for being a complete kitchen failure and resorting to a tin of Celebrations and a packet of store bought Stollen, _again._ It wasn't _his_ fault he didn't have Rani's knack for homemade samosas, or Arthur's ability to make non-alcoholic mulled cider actually taste _good._ Put Q in a kitchen and things got burned, even if it was just an empty pan. _Especially_ if it was just an empty pan.

He made his way to his desk, intent on dropping off his laptop and picking up his wallet to go foraging in Tesco, when he saw it.

A mince pie, sitting innocently next to a mug of tea.

The tea was still steaming, so it couldn’t have been there long. 

He squinted at it suspiciously. He didn’t _remember_ any of his staff saying they were doing a bakery run, but then again, Moneypenny had needed to come down and drag him away from his coding project for the meeting, so he could have just zoned them out. 

“It won’t explode.” 

Q didn’t jump, but only because he was so used to double-ohs sneaking up on him at odd moments. One couldn't live with James Bond for long without getting used to him appearing from nowhere without making a sound. It was a defence mechanism.

“Well, it _probably_ won’t explode, anyway.” 

“Thank you for that resounding vote of confidence, 007.” He nudged James out of the way to get at his tea. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I can’t drop by and say hello at work?”

“You _could_. I just don’t see why you _would._ You’re off mission for another week, after all. You normally hate coming into the office when you don't have to."

“You skipped breakfast. And don’t tell me you weren’t hungry, after this morning.”

Q flushed, glancing around to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. Thankfully, his staff all appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in their tasks. Well, if they _were_ listening, it was their own damn fault what they overheard.

He turned his attention back to James, who was grinning wolfishly. 

“You are a wicked, wicked man, James Bond.” James visibly preened, making Q roll his eyes at him. “And the tea? Surely you didn’t bully Laila into checking the CCTV feed. Again.” 

“No, actually that one was R. Eve messaged her to say you were on your way down. Apparently they had a lunch date to get to.”

“Hmmm.” Q lifted the mug to his lips, inhaling the heavenly scent of bergamot-laced tea. It was brewed to perfection, as always. “Well, I suppose I can’t complain too much, as long as you keep bringing me tea and sweets.” 

He looked again at the mince pie. Just a simple, basic mince pie. No fancy pastry crimping or crumble topping, just pastry and a light dusting of icing sugar. It looked homemade. 

“Have you been sweet talking Doris at number 37, again?” 

James laughed at him. 

Laughed! At him! For asking a perfectly reasonable question! 

Did James think Q didn’t know about the birthday cake? Or the scones? Or that delectable spinach, cheese and sundried tomato plait thingy they’d had a few weeks ago? 

It had to have been Doris. 

It couldn’t have been any of their other neighbours, none of them would even give James and Q the time of day, let alone freshly baked morsels of deliciousness. Doris had won the baking contest at her WI’s summer fair three years running. Q had checked.

“Just eat the damned thing, Q.” 

Silently vowing to visit Doris himself and tell her not to let James charm her into any more baking, no matter how good it was, Q took a bite. 

The pastry crumbled between his teeth, crisp and buttery and not too sweet. The mincemeat was spiced to perfection, juicy with just a hint of brandy. 

“Oh, holy fuck,” he groaned around his mouthful. “This is the best thing I have ever had in my mouth.”

In a matter of moments, the pie was gone. Q felt bereft. He should have taken the time to savour it. 

Maybe he should ask _Doris_ to bake something for the Christmas party? No one would dare judge him for it once they tasted her mince pies.

“You know, if I had known you would react like _this_ , I would have saved it until you got home,” James grinned - it wasn’t the grin Q had expected, though. The seductive and slightly-smug one he used when he won at something. It was the other grin. The bright, guileless one that made him look as if Q had handed James the world on a plate. The one he’d given Q the first time he’d said yes to dinner - “but they really are better fresh.” 

He held out a tupperware pot that Q hadn’t noticed he was holding. Inside were five more mince pies, each looking as good as the first. 

“I really hope you’re paying Doris for these.” Q took another pie. “You might want to order another dozen, actually.”

James laughed at him again.

“You can have as many as you like. I have a whole jar of mincemeat to use up, after all.” 

Q’s mind screeched to a halt. He thought back over the past few months. He’d never actually _spoken_ to Doris about all the baked goods that kept appearing, he’d just assumed it must be her.

“They aren’t from Doris?”

“No, darling. Not from Doris.”

“ _You_ made them?”

“I did.” 

James loved cooking. Q _knew_ James loved cooking. But _baking?_ And really, Q couldn’t even boil an egg, so he mostly stayed out of the kitchen cupboards except for the one with the tea. And he really might have thought about being slightly offended by the mirth in James’s eyes, right now, except-

“You don’t bake.”

“Since when?”

“You said! We were watching Bake Off, and you said you couldn’t see what people found so appealing about watching people stress out over recipes they came up with themselves.”

“Just because I don’t like Bake Off doesn’t mean I don’t bake. You’ve tried my baking!”

“I have not!” And, OK, Q might have shouted that last bit, because a sea of heads looked up from their computer screens to stare at the bickering couple.

“What about those scones I made? Your birthday cake? That spinach plait the other week?”

The spinach plait. 

Now that he thought about it, there was no way Doris could have made that. It had been fresh from the oven when Q got home from work. 

"I'm an idiot," he groaned. 

He hid his face in his hands, as if that would magically conceal his embarrassment. James tugged him in for a hug, though Q could feel his laughter rumbling through his chest, which _did not help!_

"Not an idiot, darling," James soothed, "you just think food appears ready cooked out of the oven."

"I do not!" Q prodded him in the stomach in retaliation, gratified when James let out a quiet grunt. 

"Sorry, sorry," James laughed. "I meant to say out of a bag in the freezer." 

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Q made an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes with a mock huff. 

"I'll see you at home, then." James leaned in to kiss Q before pulling away with a grin. "Maybe I'll even bake dessert." 

James turned to go, and Q called after him:

"I hope you know this means you're baking for the Q Branch Christmas party, now." 

When the sound of James's laughter disappeared behind the sliding doors of Q Branch, Q picked up the box of mince pies he'd left behind.

They were _much_ better than a Tesco sandwich. 


End file.
